


Four times Scully sang Joy to the World and one time Mulder did

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Prompt: 5 times Scully sang joy to the world to Mulder again after Detour !





	Four times Scully sang Joy to the World and one time Mulder did

1

She’s humming the theme tune to Shaft and he’s pretending to write a report but she’s seen the doodle of Dracula he’s been perfecting. She leans across to reach a pen and he tilts his head in that infuriatingly sexy way, giving her a view of that sharp jaw.

“How’s it coming along, Mulder?”

“I’m just getting to the pointy end.”

She doesn’t give him the laugh he’s looking for. Instead, she hums again.

“I did not sing that song,” he says, jabbing his pencil into the paper so that it sticks through.

“Fine. I can always sing another tune.”

“Yeah,” he says, screwing up the report and pitching it towards the trash can. “Got much in your repertoire, Ginger Spice?”

She smiles calmly, “I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.”

“What do you want, Scully? Really, really?”

“I want you to start that report properly, with a big boy’s pen, and I’ll buy you dinner.”

He swipes up a pencil, throws it upwards. It digs into the ceiling. Then drops out, clattering onto the desk. 

She giggles, then sings. “Jeremiah was a bullfrog…”

2

It fits that she’s waiting in the dark. Every breath is audible in the still. His apartment smells of old leather and Drakkar Noir. The occasional car on the street casts light across the prints on the walls. Her nerves are flayed, but more than just the stone-cold fear for his safety, is her rising anger. She’s angry that he kept her out of the loop. That he still crusades alone. That out of misplaced gallantry, a wish to protect her, he never sees that he risks driving her away. The fish tank filter bubbles. Watching the mollies glide and turn, she thinks of his head in her lap.

“Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea…” She can barely hear her own voice.

The door opens. He stops just inside, inspects his finger.

“Don’t be alarmed,” she says.

3

He doesn’t answer her and Kenny Loggins is singing the Caddyshack theme song. She settles back, sips more beer, wonders what that big brain, that big heart of his wished for. At the end of the movie, she’s almost asleep, head heavy on his shoulder. Her feet are cold.

“I’ve been thinking, Scully.”

“Thinking and watching at the same time? Wow.”

He nudges her off him and she reluctantly opens her eyes.

“Do you know the all lyrics of Joy to the World?”

She straightens. “Joy to the World, the Lord is Come!”

His face melts into a maddeningly sexy grin as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Oh, you mean Three Dog Night’s version? Well, I am a medical doctor, a physicist, an Einstein rewriter, an ace investigator, a better shot than you, so,” she stretches out the word for emphasis, as his eyebrows rise, “it should come as no surprise that I am able to sing the entire song, word for word.”

“But not in tune.” He taps the inside of her knee with the back of two fingers.

Trapping his hand there, she says, “do you want a rendition or do you want me to go home, Mr-I’m-not-going-to-tell-you-what-my-last-wish-was-for?”

His fingers pressing down over her thigh are her cue. It’s not just friction that runs through her, but the flush of new love. “There’s a verse that goes And if I were the king of the world, Tell you what I’d do, I’d throw away the cars and the bars and the war, Make sweet love to you.”

He squeezes harder, slides closer, lifts the hair from her neck. “How spooky of you to know that was my last wish, Dr Scully.” He nuzzles her neck. “And by the way, you left something off your role call of epithets.”

“Hnnn? What was that?”

“Lover.”

4

Her navel has protruded. Silvery lines crisscross her lower abdomen. Her breasts are full, nipples larger and darker. Tracing the linea nigra she marvels at her fruitfulness in such a barren, bleak time. There’s snow falling. Skinner is waiting downstairs, drinking tea with her mother. She can hear their murmuring, soft concern that will whittle away her resolve if she doesn’t block it out.

The black suit holds in her body and her dignity. She brushes her hair, thinks about how Mulder loved to do that for her, swears she feels his breath on her neck. She rubs at the spot, places her fingers on her belly, connecting.

“Joy to the world,” she whispers. Then louder, “All the boys and girls…”

5

He’s holding her close, hands flat against her shoulder blades. Swaying. They’re swaying to some godawful country song in a bar in some hick town. Their movements are entirely too slow for the rhythm of song but she’s bone tired from driving, bone tired from living out of a suitcase.

“Hungry?” he asks into her hair and strands stick to his mouth. He pulls it away and smiles down at her. A weary smile.

“Not really.”

He hugs her tighter and they turn in a slow circle. The band plays another number. More people walk to the dance floor. They’re smiling and energised, laughing. This is their bar, their music, their life. She feels like an intruder, has done since their escape. An intruder in the world. They both have no place. They’re orbiting, in a holding pattern, and she just wants to land. A young woman, clutching the hand of her young beau, approaches the band and the bassist nods.

“Oh, we know your song, Kayley.” The crowd claps wildly. There’s a rush of energy in the room. “We play it every darn week.”

The bassist strikes the chords and Mulder chuckles. “A propos, Scully.”

She bursts into laughing tears and presses the side of her face into his chest as the vocalist begins, Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman.

“Do we have a song?” he asks later, laying her on the bed, kissing the bones between her breasts, moulding his hands around her hips.

She hums as he moves lower. She can’t make the words come out of her mouth but he lifts his face to hers and says softly, “was a good friend of mine…” before sinking his tongue deep into her, and for a while she believes that she’s landed.


End file.
